


Maid in Gotham

by thursdaysgirl



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7005580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursdaysgirl/pseuds/thursdaysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth realises that he will need more hired help at Wayne Manor. Planning to hire a matronly older woman, Alfred ends up employing a younger, down on her luck singer who is looking to become a professional performer. Neither of them expect the connection or the sparks that fly between them, and is Gotham really the place for a budding romance anyway?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Truth be told, I was dazzled by him from the very beginning. He was at least fifteen years my senior, but in those first few moments I was more attracted to him than any of the more age appropriate men I had dated in years. He managed to be both brusque and polite when he opened the front door of the manor and led me into a small parlour that looked immaculately clean and tidy. I wondered at his need for extra help around the house, but perhaps this room was kept to exceptionally high standards for the receiving of guests. I, of course, was not a guest but an interviewee for the position of assistant housekeeper at Wayne Manor.  
Like everyone in Gotham, I was aware of the tragedy that had befallen Thomas and Martha Wayne but when I had seen the job advert in the agency window, I had had no idea that the position was for Wayne Manor. It had seemed strange to me that an extra member of staff would be needed now when, as far as everyone else was aware, only Master Bruce Wayne and his butler remained in residence. Perhaps, I had wondered, that Alfred Pennyworth was struggling with raising a boy who was bound to be traumatised by his recent experiences. It couldn’t be easy being both mother, father and butler to a wealthy boy who had lost everything that was truly important to him.  
“Ms Robertson, I see here that all of your references appear to be in order,” He sat across from me on a stuffed, upright chair, looking immaculate in a three-piece grey suit. His accent though British, was rougher than the house and his style of dress suggested. It hinted to me that although he was in the employ of a wealthy family like the Waynes, his own beginnings had been far more humble.  
“Yes, sir.” I replied immediately, swallowing a lump in my throat at the directness of his stare.  
He began to smirk then. “I’m the butler love, you don’t have to call me sir.”  
“Sorry,” I looked down at my crossed legs, swiping away an imaginary speck of lint so I could avoid looking into those eyes that seemed to see everything.  
“No need to apologise miss,” He seemed to relax a little now. “I’ve conducted what feels like thousands of interviews over the last week and I’ve still got a pile of resumés to work through but I need to know if you’d be ready to start straightaway.”  
Thinking of my apartment, where I couldn’t currently afford any heating, I nodded immediately.  
“I’ll give you a call as soon as I’ve made my decision.”  
He shook my hand and led me back through the manor. I honestly thought I would never see or hear from him again. I might have the references and the experiences, but I didn’t have the pedigree of someone that a family like the Waynes would ususally hire. But then again, I thought as I made my way home through the rapidly darkening streets of Gotham, neither did Alfred Pennyworth.

I had slept fitfully, but my dreams were vivid. My current period of sleep was haunted by a faceless man, his voice a rough rumble as his hands ghosted over by body until a shrill ringing brought me to the surface again. Sweating and shaking, I reached out for the phone and tried to sound casual when I answered.  
“Hello?”  
“Good morning, Miss Robertson. Alfred Pennyworth here, from Wayne Manor. I’d like to offer you the job if you’re still interested.”  
“Thank you, I’d love to take the job. When would you like me to start?”  
“Tomorrow morning, miss. I’ll have your uniform sent over and we’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow morning at seven o’clock.”  
“Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
Shivering now that the dream’s warmth had left me, l led back on the bed and wrapped the covers around me. Tomorrow I would start a new job. The work would no doubt be hard, but I couldn’t deny the appeal of getting closer to Alfred Pennyworth.

The uniform arrived by courier early that afternoon and I rushed back up to my apartment to try it on. I was expecting it to be too large or too tight, but Alfred must have a good eye because everything fit just perfectly. The white blouse was tailored perfectly around my breasts without being too big in the back or through the sleeves. The black pinafore style dress came to just above my knees, and followed the shape of my curves. I pinned my hair up and looked at my reflection in the mirror, thinking that I certainly looked the part. Nerves fluttered low in my stomach, but there was excitement too. Being a housekeeper, even for a place like Wayne Manor, wasn’t high on my list of potential careers but until I could make a decent wage as a singer, I was going to give it my best shot.  
“Master Bruce,” Alfred called before the boy could disappear into the bathroom to brush his teeth. “The new maid starts tomorrow, her name is Victoria, but we will address her as Miss Robertson. I don’t expect you’ll see a lot of her, because you’ll be at school most of the time she’s here.”  
“Okay Alfred,” Bruce replied, stifling a yawn. “Goodnight.”  
Alfred patted the boy on the shoulder and headed back downstairs to check that everything was in order for the morning. It would be strange to share the house with staff again, but having someone in to the odd jobs meant that he would have more time to help Bruce with uncovering the mysteries his parents have left behind. It would be nice to have adult company in the house during the day as well, rather than rattling around by himself. He had found that he had begun to talk to himself, which was really rather alarming. He had planned on hiring an older, matronly type of woman but when Miss Robertson had walked through the front door he had felt that he had no choice but to hire her. He just hoped he knew what he was letting himself in for. 

I stood outside Wayne Manor at ten minutes to seven the next morning, not wanting to be late on my very first day. Alfred opened the door and I noticed again how smart he looked, not a hair out of place and not a wrinkle to be seen in any of his clothing. He led me through the house and into the kitchens where the smell of coffee was hanging in the air.  
“I thought you would be a tea drinker.” I commented, wanting to break the silence that had fallen since we had exchanged greetings at the door.  
“Of course,” Alfred replied, without the hint of a smile but I was sure I detected the faintest twinkle in his eyes. “But this hour of the morning calls for coffee.”  
“I assume you don’t give it to young Master Bruce?”  
He did smile this time. “No, he has more than enough energy for the both of us without caffeine.” He hovered somewhat awkwardly by the machine. “Would you like a cup?”  
“No, thank you. I should really get started, don’t you think? What would you like me to do first?”

Alfred was both disappointed and pleased with the new maid. She was focused and diligent in her tasks, but she seemed to shut down any attempt he made to converse with her. Perhaps she was trying to impress him, and didn’t want him to think that she would waste time that he was paying her for with idle chit-chat. He had enjoyed their exchanges that morning, but she had seemed far keener to get to work than to talk to him. He was supposed that was why he had hired her, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting of the rejection. Was it just that he spent so much time alone? Or that his only constant companion in the last few months had been an adolescent boy. 

“Miss Robertson,” Alfred said hours later, sweeping into the kitchen while I prepared vegetables for tonight’s stew. “I think it’s time you stopped for lunch.”  
“You know,” I replied, settling down the long bladed knife. “You can call me by my name; Victoria or Vicky if you like, I won’t think it’s unprofessional at all.”  
He hesitated, as if he was trying out my name in his head before he said it aloud.  
“In that case, you should really call me Alfred.”  
I wiped my hand on my apron and held it out to him.  
“Alfred,”  
“Vicky,” He replied, holding onto my hand longer than was strictly necessary for a handshake. His eyes bored into mine and I could feel a flush creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. He finally let go and looked away, breaking the collection. “Let’s have some lunch, then.”

We continued in something of a routine for a couple of weeks, eventually breaking the ice enough to share coffee before I started work in the morning and stopping to have lunch together. I found myself missing him on the weekends when Alfred assured me that he and Master Bruce could take care of themselves. I rarely saw Bruce, but observed his interactions with Alfred and was touched by the strength of their bond. My own feelings for Alfred grew more complex each day as we began to learn more about each other, but it was when he asked me about my future that I found myself floored.  
“You’ve been a great help here, love, I couldn’t have asked for anyone better. I am wondering though, this can’t be it for you. You must want something more than clearing up after an old man and a teenage boy.”  
“You’re not an old man, Alfred,” I replied, reaching over and covering one of his hands with one of mine before I had even thought about it. “But yes, you are right; I do have hopes and dreams for the future even if nothing comes of them.”  
Alfred was still looking down at our joined hands when he replied.  
“And what are these hopes and dreams, Vic?”  
“I want to be a singer, professionally. I sing in clubs in and around Gotham on Friday and Saturday nights, but I want more than that.”  
“I didn’t know. I mean, I’ve heard you sing round the house when you’ve been working. Maybe you could sing for me properly sometime?”  
“I’ve got a gig on Saturday night,”  
“Master Bruce, I can’t leave him. God knows what bloody hell he’d raise on a Saturday without me around to keep him in check!”  
“That’s alright,” I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. A part of me really wanted Alfred to see me as myself, not restricted by the job and the uniform but my real self. I understood that Bruce had to come first; that he and Alfred would always be a package.  
“Maybe some other time, eh love?”  
I nodded, popping the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth before collecting our plates. Alfred was perceptive, too damn perceptive, and I didn’t want him to see my disappointed. 

“I like her,” Bruce said decisively as he made his way up to bed on Thursday night. “I didn’t think I wanted someone else in the house, but it feels like she belongs here.”  
“I like her too,” Alfred replied, following Bruce up the stairs. “Did you know that she’s a singer?”  
“Yes, Selina told me. She plays at different clubs in town and she gets a good crowd apparently.”  
Alfred tried not to roll his eyes at the mention of Selina Kyle. “She invited me to watch her perform on Saturday.”  
“Are you going to go?” Bruce asked, turning around and looking at Alfred with eager, shining eyes.  
“No, I told her I was lumbered with you.”  
“I could come as well. I’d love to hear her sing.”  
“You’re too young.”  
Bruce rolled his eyes. “Well anyway, you should go.”  
Alfred sighed. He wanted to; he really wanted to, but maybe it was better for all of them if he stayed her like usual. 

“I’ll see you on Monday morning,” Alfred said as he opened the door for me late on Friday afternoon. I had to admit, it was getting harder to leave him each week. I had settled into a routine at the Wayne Manor, and I enjoyed spending time with Alfred and with Bruce. Secretly, I’d been hoping that Alfred would change his mind and come to see me perform on Saturday night, but it clearly wasn’t on the cards.  
“Enjoy your weekend, Alfred.” I said, smiling as brightly as possible as I stepped out of the Manor. I wondered if he was sorry to see me go, or whether the affection was only one-sided. The sound of the door shutting behind me seemed to suggest the latter.

Now that I had steady employment and could afford to pay my heating bills, Saturday mornings were spent lounging in bed before a long hot bubble bath. I had already laid my clothes for the performance out on the bed and was just turning off the bath taps when I heard a sharp knocking on my apartment door. Tying my bath robe tighter around my body, I peered through the safety hole in the door. I had to look again to make sure that my imagination wasn’t playing tricks on me.  
“Alfred, what are you doing here?” I asked, pulling open the door and unlinking the safety chain.  
“I wanted to see if it was still alright for me to come to your show tonight.”  
“Of course it is,” I stuttered. “But you could have called me.”  
“Well, Master Bruce is with an, uh, friend for the weekend and to be brutally honest, I missed you.”  
I wanted to pinch myself to make sure this wasn’t a dream, but surely if it was I would have had my bath before he arrived?  
“Let me guess, this friend of Bruce’s would be Selina Kyle?” I decided to stick with the safer of the two topics, though by the look on Alfred’s face at the mention of the girl I wasn’t sure it was the lesser of two evils.  
“How did you know?”  
“I saw her in a tree outside the Manor the other day when I was clearing up; she gave me a right scare. Seems like a good kid, though. Bruce could be hanging around with worse.”  
Alfred made a noise that sounded like a growl, but that was all he had to say on the subject.  
“Can I come in?” He asked instead.  
“It’s not as grand as you’re used to.” I apologised, standing back and letting him in. Even though it was a Saturday, I noticed that he was wearing another of his three-piece suits.  
“I’m not interrupting, am I?”  
“No, I was just about to have a bath.”  
“Oh sorry, I won’t keep you then.” He turned to go and I couldn’t bear to watch him leave. He blew hot and cold from one minute to the next, maybe it was because he was British or was it because he felt the same as me?  
“Wait,” I reached for him, my fingers wrapping around the lapel of his jacket. He looked down at me, my hair still mussed from my longer sleep and my silky bathrobe creased from lack of ironing. The hunger in his eyes seemed to indicate that at this moment he didn’t much care.  
“We shouldn’t.” He said, though it looked like it cost him to say the words.  
“Do you want to?” I stepped closer so that our bodies were an inch away from touching.  
“God, yes.” He muttered, pulling me closer and sliding one hand into my hair and the other around my back as he brought his lips down on mine.  
None of the British politeness or hesitation existed in his kiss, or the way he moved me across the room until my back was pressed against the wall. He moaned into the kiss and he used the opportunity to slip his tongue between my lips. We kissed until the need to breathe overwhelmed us and I saw that his eyes had darkened. I reached for him this time, pressing my lips again his as undid the buttons on his grey jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. On a hungry moan, he reached for the tie of my bathrobe and opened it. The feel of his large hands on my skin had me pushing myself closer to him; needing more, needing everything. He pushed the robe off my shoulders and all but carried me to the bed. There was something sort erotic about being naked, but Alfred still being fully clothed minus his jacket. Before things could progress any further, a shrill beeping filled the room and Alfred stumbled away, freeing his cell phone from the pocket of his discarded jacket. He looked away from me as he answered, and he didn’t have to say anything for me to know that nothing more was going to happen between us here.  
“I’m sorry my love,” He ended the call and put his jacket back on. “It’s Bruce. I’ve got to go.”  
“I hope he’s okay.”  
“Me too.” He looked at me with something I thought was regret before walking out of my apartment as though he had never been there at all. Disappointed and frustrated, I went into the bathroom and sunk down into the lukewarm bathwater. If I was going to perform at my best tonight, I needed to stop thinking about Alfred Pennyworth. After this afternoon, that was going to be easier said than done.


	2. Chapter 2

Maid in Gotham

Chapter 2

 

I was feeling steadier as I walked toward the club I would be performing in. I was a few hours early, but it would give me time for a quick rehearsal and to finish applying my make-up backstage. I liked to be able to watch the other acts as well; absorbing the atmosphere always gave my adrenaline a healthy boost. Gotham’s downtown bars and clubs were often known for their brawls and violence, especially at the weekend but I had been lucky and avoided any altercations so far. People seemed to come out to hear me sing, and if they had a beef with another club patron they seemed to be able to wait until my set was finished before knocking seven shades of our each other.  
The dressing room was small and barely furnished, but it was comfortable enough to pass the time before my set. I sat, looking at my reflection and tried to steady my breathing. I loved performing; loved being up on stage in front of a crowd of people. If I saw them singing along or tapping their feet to the rhythm I knew that I’d succeeded in putting on a good show. I forgot everything when I was on stage, losing myself in the music and the energy of performing. I was looking forward to forgetting all about Alfred Pennyworth for a few hours, and giving myself over to something that was constant; that I could always rely on.  
I had just finished applying a final coat of lipstick when there was a tentative knock on my dressing room door.  
“Come in,” I called, setting the tube of lipstick down on the counter.  
One of the barmaids popped her head around the door and smiled at me, proffering a slim rectangle box.  
“Hi Vicky, this was left at the bar for you.”  
“Thank you.” I took the box from her and waited for her to leave before opening it. There was a single dark red rose inside the box and a note written on thick white paper.  
“Good luck with your performance tonight, I’m sure you’ll blow them away. I wish I could be there, and I hope that we can finish what we started soon.”  
So much for forgetting about him for a while, I thought as I took the rose of the box and fingered the smooth crimson petals. I couldn’t help but wonder what the phone call that had dragged him away from my bed and from coming to the show tonight was about. I had to assume that it was related to Bruce, and concern from the boy mingled with the other myriad of emotions that were swirling through me. It was a relief when I was finally called to the stage.

He hadn’t wanted to leave Bruce’s side, he had promised himself that he would never let any harm come to the boy after his parents had been so brutally taken and he couldn’t help but feel he had failed time and again. It was hard to control a boy who was wilful as Bruce, and Alfred couldn’t help but think he might behave in quite the same way if he was in the boy’s shoes. However he looked at it though, he knew that Bruce being in the hospital was the result of his own neglected duties. He thought he had been coping quite well until Miss Robertson came along. He had thought he needed more help so he could focus on Bruce, but her presence had distracted him rather than leaving him more time to spend with the boy. He knew he couldn’t blame her for that; he should have known what he was letting himself in for when he offered her the job. Guilt plagued him when he realised that the truth of the matter was that he had hired Miss Robertson more for his benefit than for Bruce’s. It had been a long time since he had been in the presence of an attractive woman, especially one who seemed to reciprocate his affection. He had let himself get carried away though, and it was time to put it to a stop.  
His resolve had lasted all of a few hours. Once he knew that Bruce was alright, just a fractured ankle and a mild concussion, he had arranged for the gift to be sent to Miss Robertson at the club. Alfred had not argued when the doctors insisted that Bruce spent the night in the hospital. He doubted even Bruce Wayne could escape the heavily guarded hospital, especially when he had persuaded Jim Gordon to send one of his uniformed officers to keep watch outside Bruce’s door.  
“I’ll come back in a few hours, Master Bruce.” He said a little gruffly as he awkwardly bent of kiss the boy’s forehead.  
“Don’t miss Miss Robertson’s show because of me, Alfred.” He replied, his voice slurred from the painkillers he’d been administered.  
“Don’t you worry about me, son.”

Alfred stepped out of the hospital and into the cool night air, pulling his leather gloves out of his pockets. He looked at his watch and thought that if he walked fast enough he might make the end of Miss Robertson’s set.  
He hurried into the club, bought a whiskey at the bar and almost choked on the amber liquid when he heard her voice permeate the smoky air. His first thought was that she a siren. Her voice alone would make him crash his ship into the rocks and drown a happy man in the deep blue sea. He finally let his eyes rest on her, the jolt in his gut was nothing to do with the whiskey he was consuming. She was beauty itself, her dark red hair pinned in an elaborate up-do, her deep blue eyes outlined with thick black kohl and the mouth he had ravished earlier was painted vermilion. The shimmering nude beaded gown clung to her hourglass figure, but it was her voice that captivated her audience of men and women alike.  
He watched her unobserved as she finished the song, but as stepped away from the microphone to take a sip of water she turned and met his eyes straight on. The jolt of lust he felt in that second drowned out everything he had felt before. If it had been a mistake to come here, he would live with the regret later.

I hadn’t expected him to come. I knew how important Bruce was to him. Even if the boy had been alright, I wouldn’t have expected to see him – not after our encounter that afternoon. In spite of the note had sent me with the rose, I felt that maybe he was regretting letting these escalate between us. If we had crossed that line together could we go back to working side by side at the Manor on Monday morning? I wasn’t a prude, but it was difficult for me to be intimate with someone and then carry on as if nothing important had happened between us. The fact that I was already developing feelings for Alfred that went beyond sexual attraction did not help matters either.  
I tried not to choke on my water as I let it cool my throat. I had been enjoying the performance; losing myself in it until I had looked up and straight into Alfred’s eyes. His stare was direct as ever, but even across the room I could see that his eyes had darkened. A shiver ran through me, despite the heat of the crowded club. Wrenching my gaze away from him, I turned back to the house band and we began to play again.  
The rest of the set passed in a daze. I can only assume I performed well as the crowd were loud in their praise. As soon as I was able, I left the stage and headed for my dressing room. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to face a meeting with Alfred just then; my emotions were all over the place. I wiped off some of my make-up, cleaned up the room so that I left it just as I found it and put my coat on. I wasn’t looking forward to the walk home, but the club wasn’t far and I had made enough tips that I could afford to take a cab the short journey if I really needed to.  
I waved goodnight to the bar staff who were wiping down tables and collecting glasses, before stepping out into the crisp night air.  
“Good evening, Miss Robertson.”  
He seemed to appear out of the shadows, frightening me half to death. That voice; that accent, it couldn’t be anyone else. I should have suspected that he would wait for me.  
“I’ve got the car, let me take you home.”  
“It’s alright thank you, Alfred,” I hoped it didn’t come out sounding too stiff. “It’s not very far from here.”  
“If you think I’m letting you walk the streets of Gotham by yourself in the middle of the night, you must be bloody mad.”  
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” My voice was definitely chilly now, but I hadn’t always had a knight in a shining three-piece suit to save me and I was still alive, wasn’t I?  
“Well, that was before. Get in the car or I’ll put you in there myself.”  
I glared at him. I knew he was looking out for safety, but the last thing I needed was him to baby me as if I were Bruce.  
“It would be very inconvenient to have to hire another maid because you got raped, beaten and left for dead on a street corner, wouldn’t it?”  
“Fuck you, Alfred.” I muttered, but climbed into the passenger side of the car anyway.  
“You’re welcome, princess.” I heard him grumble in reply before walking around to the other side of the car.

The awkwardness lasted between us for all of a couple of minutes. He drove the car with ease, the engine purring as we navigated the darkened Gotham streets. I didn’t want to admit it to him, but I was grateful for the ride home. It wasn’t that I was incapable of looking after myself, but I hadn’t much relished the idea of walking home alone. Gotham wasn’t exactly the safest place for a young woman on her own, even in the daylight.  
“You were wonderful up there tonight, really.” He said, taking his eyes off the road long enough to look at me.  
“Thank you,” I paused, being pissed off at him seemed ridiculous now. “Thank you for coming. How is Bruce?”  
“He’s in the hospital.” When I gasped, he continued quickly. “Nothing serious, just a sprain. Up to something he shouldn’t have been with Miss Kyle as usual. I’ll go back and check on him once I’ve dropped you off.”  
“Thank you, Alfred. Give Bruce a kiss from me.”  
He pulled to a stop outside my apartment building, the streetlight illuminating his smirk and his sparkling eyes.  
“Only if I can have one just for me as well.”  
Rolling my eyes, I leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. I felt his hands cup my face and he drew me down so my lips met his. The kiss was slow and deep, unlike our frenzied make-out session of that afternoon. The change in pace didn’t make my head spin any the less though.  
“Goodnight Miss Robertson,”  
I climbed out of the car on shaky legs. “Goodnight, Alfred.”  
I went upstairs to my apartment and went straight to the window. His car was still there. I wondered if he might come up, but once he was satisfied that I was in my apartment he started the engine and was gone again.


	3. Chapter 3

When I arrived at the Manor on Monday morning, Alfred greeted me as normal. He looked ashen, with dark circles under his eyes but he was smiling as he let me over the threshold. I spent much of Sunday wondering whether I should call him and ask how Bruce was doing, but I had managed to talk myself out of it every time the urge became too strong.   
“Good morning, Miss Robertson.”  
“Good morning, Alfred.” I replied. “Is Bruce home from the hospital yet?”  
“Yes, I brought him home last night. He’s still resting at the moment.”  
I smiled too, relieved that Bruce was well enough to come home. I had become attached to him and Alfred in the short amount of time that I had worked at Wayne Manor.   
“That’s wonderful; I’ll pop up and see him later when he’s awake.” I made my way through to the kitchen and was surprised to find Alfred following me. “Why don’t you go up and get some more rest – you look like you could use it.”  
Alfred crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at me.  
“I meant that it looks like the strain of what happened to Bruce has caught up with you.”  
“When you’ve quite finished critiquing my appearance, Miss Robertson, I’ll be in the drawing room.”  
I turned back from where I had begun making preparations for our morning coffee, which we usually shared in the kitchen while discussing the jobs for the day, to find the door closed forcefully. I carried on with the coffee preparation, reminding myself that the events of the weekend did not mean that I could overlook that fact that I was his employee.

Taking a mug of coffee and a plate of cookies from the jar, I made my way up to the drawing room. I was still amazed that Alfred had felt the need to hire a maid when the house always seemed to spotless. He was excellent in the kitchen too and made sure that all of Bruce’s basic needs were met. Maybe he was lonely, I mused as I took the next flight of stairs. When the Waynes were alive they had kept a bigger staff, and hired extra people for their social occasions but now it was just Bruce and Alfred rattling around in the big old house.   
I found that he had taken my advice, of a fashion anyway. He was sat on one of the stuffed chairs, his head lolled slightly to one side and his breathing deep and even. It took all of my self-control not to touch him; to soothe him in his sleep.   
I left the coffee and the plate of cookies on the table next to him and headed back to the kitchen to get on with my duties. 

He found me in the kitchen two hours later, adding vegetables to a pan of simmering stock for our lunch of soup and bread. I was humming to myself as I peeled the carrots, unaware that I was alone until I heard a polite cough behind me.  
“Didn’t want to startle you miss, especially not when you’re armed like that.”  
I shot him a quick smile. He seemed to have slept off the bad mood that had caused us to rub each other up the wrong way earlier that morning.  
“Probably for the best,” I agreed, setting the knife down next to the cutting board. “Is Bruce still sleeping?”  
“No, he’s awake now. Sitting up in bed and asking if there’s a possibility that lunch might be arriving soon.”  
I smiled. “Sounds like he’s feeling like himself again.”  
“Yes, miss. It took all of my skills of persuasion to make him stay in bed.”  
It was my turn to raise my eyebrows. “And what are these skills of persuasion, Alfred?”  
Somehow the space between us was getting smaller until our bodies were in close proximity again. We both knew what could happen between us when we got too near each other.  
“Pray you never have to find out, love.”  
I badly wanted to touch him; to have him hold me just for a moment but we were working and there had to be boundaries somewhere.   
“Can you keep an eye on the soup for me while I run up and say hello to Bruce?”  
I needed him to move out of the way if I was going to see Bruce, he was effectively caging me against the kitchen counter. There was a hungry look in his eyes and I figured that it had little to do with the soup that was simmering on the hob. He leaned a little closer and for a second I was convinced he was going to kiss me, but then he moved aside and picked up the wooden spoon.   
“Don’t be too long, eh?” He said without turning around and I slipped out of the kitchen to visit Master Bruce.

I tapped lightly on Bruce’s bedroom door before stepping inside. He was propped up in bed with a pile of pillows behind his head. His ankle was also resting on a cushion, wrapped in a cast. Bruce looked pale too, but his eyes lit up when he saw me which touched me.   
“Hello Bruce, how are you feeling?”  
“I feel terrible, Miss Robertson.”  
“Oh gosh Bruce, what’s wrong? Should I get Alfred?”  
He shook his head. “No, I feel terrible for you. I know Alfred was supposed to come and see you sing on Saturday night but he had to come to the hospital with me instead.”  
“Oh Bruce,” I perched on the edge of the bed and took the boy’s hand. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’m sorry that you got hurt, but I’m glad that Alfred was there with you.”  
“He was really looking forward to hearing you, though.”  
“It’s okay Bruce, he came along just in time for the last couple of songs and he made sure that I got home safely.”  
Bruce smiled at this and I squeezed his hand again.   
“Maybe next time, Alfred will let me come as well.”  
I smiled and moved to stand up. “You’ll have to ask him about that.”  
I went back downstairs and relieved Alfred of his sous chef duties. He stayed in the kitchen while I stirred the soup and added seasoning. We didn’t speak to each other, but there seemed to be a relaxed atmosphere between us; a comfortable silence.   
“I’ll take this up to Master Bruce,” Alfred said, taking the tray of soup and freshly baked bread that I had laid out. “And perhaps we could have ours together, Miss Robertson.”  
“You know,” I said, concentrating on ladling out soup into two more bowls. “You could call me by my first name, Miss Robertson seems awfully formal.”  
He looked as if he was considering it, but turned away with the tray without speaking.

We ate our lunch together, but again in silence. It was one thing to exist in a comfortable silence when we were working together, but I had been hoping that Alfred’s professional mask might slip a little during our break for lunch. Alfred was almost impossible to read. I understood how important Bruce was to him and maintaining the Wayne Manor to the same standards as always, even if it was only the three of us who spent any real time there. I had seen a different side of him; the intense way he had looked at me when he kissed me and the cheeky flirtatious side of him that I had been surprised to know existed. He was able to put his armour back in place so easily though, perhaps that was why he had adapted to military life so well and why the Waynes had entrusted their only son into his care. I didn’t know how to bring that side of him back to the surface, but I did know that pushing him wasn’t going to help matters. 

We finished our jobs for the day in separate parts of the house, and he saw me out at the end of my shift. I wanted to say something; to touch him but it seemed that the warmth and closeness between us had lost its intimacy in the time we had been apart.

Alfred shut the door with a sigh after she was gone. He felt like he could truly breathe for the first time since she had crossed the threshold that morning. She was still on his mind though and he wished he could have invented some excuse for her to say. He couldn’t help but feel he had handled everything so very badly with her. If Bruce hadn’t injured himself, would he have been able to stop themselves? It was difficult to look at her or say her name when his mind kept replaying Saturday afternoon in her apartment, with her spread out naked on her bed in front of him. He didn’t know how they went about getting themselves back to the point, of it they should even bother. She was a good deal younger than him and she had made it clear that she didn’t want to stay in Gotham forever, which was bloody sensible in his opinion. Although he hadn’t felt it anywhere near as acutely as Bruce, he was still reeling from the loss of Thomas and Martha, and he was afraid of letting himself get close to someone again. It didn’t matter though really, because even if he never kissed again; never touched her again, she had already worked her way under his skin.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of week carried on as normal. Bruce slowly got better and was able to put a little weight on his ankle. He didn’t speak of how he had acquired the injury, but it had taken him a while to bounce back emotionally. I knew, from what Alfred had confided, that Bruce was still determined to find those responsible for his parents’ murders as Gotham PD seemed to have lost interest in solving the case. Alfred and I continued in something resembling a professional manner, still sharing coffee in the mornings before I started work. We kept our physical distance from each other now; there was far too much metaphorical gasoline between us to risk striking that match again. 

By Friday afternoon it was as though nothing had ever happened between us, and I was a little regretful to leave the Manor and its inhabitants for two whole days. I had another gig at the weekend though, and despite working hard all week my own household chores still awaited me. At the end of my shift I put my coat back on and made my way to the front door, calling up a goodbye to Bruce. Alfred was behind me in an instance, startling me a little as I was sure he had been upstairs.  
“Thank you for all your hard work this week, Miss Robertson.”  
“That’s what you pay me for, Alfred.” I winced as I watched the comment hit home. I hadn’t meant it the way it had sounded and I tried to apologise. “I mean, you’re welcome but I was just doing my job.” This didn’t seem to make matters any better, Alfred and Bruce were far more that part of the job to me.  
“It makes a change to hear you struggling with your words; it’s usually me who’s putting my foot in my mouth.”  
I wanted to glare, but his smirk and the way it lit up his eyes was infectious. Instead I wanted to kiss him, and I knew that it would be a mistake.   
“I’ll see you on Monday morning,”  
He pulled me back as I moved to open the door. The clock chimed alerting us both to the fact that four o’clock had now passed and I was officially off duty. His lips were on mine before I even had a chance to register what he was about to do. One of his hands fisted in my hair and the other wrapped around my waist to pull me closer. I could feel his arousal pressing into my lower belly and my mind was again plagued with memories of last weekend at my apartment.  
“Alfred,” I said, trying to prise our bodies apart but his grip on me was steadfast. “Alfred, what are you doing?”  
His hands fell away then and I almost stumbled, not realising how much I had been leaning on him.  
“Sorry miss, it’s just you’re off the clock now…”  
“So it’s okay to grab me now?”  
“Vic, look I’m sorry, I thought…”  
“Damn it Alfred, I want you; I’ve wanted you all week but you made it seem like nothing happened between us last weekend; nothing that mattered to you anyway.”  
I didn’t expect him to look hurt, but his blue eyes narrowed.   
“Doesn’t seem like either of us are doing a great job of communicating how we feel.”  
“You’ve got Bruce, and I work for you, I can see why this would be awkward for you.”  
“It’s not that,” He interrupted. “It’s just…it’s been a long time since I’ve done something for me.” He looked down at the ground. “I don’t even remember the last time I went on a date, and you’re so much younger than me and you’re so damn beautiful that…”  
I didn’t think I had ever heard Alfred say so many words in one go before, especially not about his feelings, heavens forbid.   
“I don’t care about any of that,” I said, taking both of his hands in both of mine. “I like you Alfred, I’ve been attracted to you since we first met and I don’t know what we do about that.”  
He looked up at me then, his blue eyes looking directly into mine.   
“Maybe I could take you out for dinner sometime…y’know, when Bruce is feeling better and our raising merry hell again.”  
I smiled, releasing his hands so I could place them on his chest and reach up to kiss his cheek.  
“I’d like that Alfred, I really would.”  
He didn’t stop me when I reached to open the door this time.

I enjoyed finishing work earlier on a Friday afternoon, it meant I had time to go into town and wander around the shops before I got dark. Alfred was paying me very well for my job at the Manor and I   
thought I could run to treating myself to a new dress. I could wear it when I performed on Saturday night and if Alfred asked me out to dinner. The thought of going on a date with him gave me butterflies in my stomach. In a way I was glad that we had been interrupted before we had slept together. I didn’t just want to have sex with Alfred; I wanted to get to know him outside of the bedroom as well as in it. I was sure that the waiting and anticipating would only make things better when we finally consummated our relationship. 

I had just finished mopping the kitchen floor on Saturday afternoon when the phone began to ring. Not expecting a call, I wandered over to the handset and gingerly picked it up.  
“Hello?”  
“Hello, its Alfred here.” As if there could be any confusion once I’d heard his voice. “Master Bruce and I would like you to join as for dinner at the Manor tomorrow evening.”  
It wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind when Alfred had said that he wanted to take me on a date, but there was no way I was going to refuse.  
“That sounds lovely. What time should I be there?”  
“Six o’clock. And I promise you won’t have to do the washing up this time.”  
I loved it when he dropped his guard and who I assumed was the real Alfred Pennyworth shone through.  
“Good to hear. I’ll see you tomorrow, Alfred.”  
We ended the call and I went back to my household chores, but this time with a smile on my face.

I arrived early for my gig that evening, accepting the glass of wine that the bartender offered when he showed me to my dressing room. I usually arrived already dressed for the performance, but I was a little shy about the new dress I had bought and wanted to wait until nearer show time before putting it on.  
I had just set down my kohl pencil and was reaching for the tube of mascara when I heard a crash and the sound of glass smashing. Half of me wanted to go and investigate, but my common sense kept me rooted in the chair, fingers still gripping the mascara tube. There was the sound of furniture being pushing across wooden floor and raised voices, so I braced myself for another crash. The light tap on the dressing room door made me jump, rocketing up my adrenaline levels again.   
“Are you ready to go on yet?” The harried bartender who had let me in asked.  
“I’m not dressed yet.”  
He took in my dark denim jeans and black blouse and shrugged. “You look fine.”  
Setting down the mascara, I followed him out into the corridor and wondered how safe it was to sing in front of such a rowdy crowd. Normally the audience was calm and relaxed when I performed, which was quite a feat in Gotham. The bartender introduced me, but I wasn’t sure if anyone in the club heard. The atmosphere was toxic; I could feel the unrest in the air. The barmaids looked frightened even behind the bar, and a patron at a nearby table was sporting a long bleeding cut on his forehead.   
I looked at the house band who already had the setlist, and signalled for them to start. The first few chords seemed to swallowed up in the raised voices that were coming from inside and outside of the club. The guitarist and backing singer exchanged a worried glance, well aware that being on the raise stage made us visible targets. I waited for my cue and launched into a classic that I usually opened or closed the set with. To start with it was hard to be heard over the ruckus, but as I began the chorus a crowd had gathered around the stage and some people had started to dance. Three songs into the set at the atmosphere had changed. While we performed, the bar staff unobtrusively cleaned up the broken glance and righted the upturned furniture.   
When we had finished and the majority of patrons had dispersed to collect their coats, another glass of wine was pressed into my hand. The same bartender escorted me back stage,  
“Someone wants to meet you,” He said, somewhat cryptically, knocking on a door not unlike the one that led to my dressing room.   
When we heard the “come in” in response to the knock, the bartender sidled away and left me alone to my fate.   
Not sure what I expected to find, I stepped into the room and was surprised to find none other than Don Falcone sitting across from me in a leather upholstered chair. He stood up where I entered, taking my hand and kissing the back of it.  
“Good evening, Miss Robertson. Thank you for seeing me.” If it had been a choice, I wouldn’t be here but I smiled politely all the same.  
“Good evening, sir.”  
“I expect you’re wondering why I wanted to see you.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Well Victoria, I have a proposition for you,” I tried not to let him see how uncomfortable he was making me feel. “I’d like you to sing for me exclusively. We can draw up a contract, but I would like you to sing only at my clubs. You have one hell of a voice.”  
I swallowed, grateful that I had the glass of wine to soothe my dry throat but conscious of keeping a clear head.  
“That’s very generous,” I said, glad that I sounded braver that I felt. “May I think about it before I agree to anything?”  
“Of course,” He said, with the smile of a man who was confident in always getting whatever he wanted. He handed me a business card, our fingers brushing as he passed it over. I didn’t care for the way that he was looking at me, and I was suddenly very glad that I hadn’t had time to change into my dress before the performance. “I look forward to hearing from you.”  
“Thank you.” I said again, lamely. I wanted to be out of this room and to leave this encounter behind me.   
I just wanted to sing, I didn’t want to be involved in Gotham’s dark underbelly. I had long dreamed of leaving the city and now would be a good opportunity, even if I didn’t really have enough money saved up for it. The thought of leaving Alfred and Bruce so suddenly left a bitter taste in my mouth as well – they had already lost so much.  
My palms were sweating as I left the room and I felt the wine had already drunk threatening to come back up. Singing was usually such a release for me, but it felt like something so personal to me was being taken out of my hands.

I slept badly, unable to stop thinking of the ramifications of my conversation with Don Falcone. I didn’t like that I was on the radar of some of the most powerful people in Gotham. I wondered if they were aware of my day job yet, because I didn’t want to drag Bruce and Alfred into this. I still didn’t fully understand why the Don wanted me to sign a contract, I played at more of the clubs in Gotham as did so many performers – I wasn’t sure what made me so different. I had always thought that my voice was gift, but now I was beginning to see it as a curse.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must apologise for taking so long to update this. I could, and am, going to blame this on the fact that Gotham s3 still hasn't started in the UK so I haven't had my weekly dose of Alfred inspiration. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I promise the wait between chapters won't be as long this time!

5.

I had slept poorly, thinking about Don Falcone’s proposal and what it might mean for my life. On the one hand, it would mean that I would have a steady job singing and could hang up my maid’s apron once and for all. This would make my relationship, if you could even call it that, with Alfred less complicated as I would no longer be in his employ. Yet, I had many serious reservations about working for one of Gotham’s dons. My life would certainly never be the same again, in ways that could be positive but also deadly. Except for my singing, I had always tried to keep my head down and live a quiet life in Gotham. Taking Falcone up on his offer would certainly meaning saying goodbye to a quiet, under-the-radar existence forever.

Worrying about Falcone’s proposition at least took my mind off being nervous about dinner at the manor. When Alfred had mentioned taking me on a date, I hadn’t imagined that I would be seeing him this weekend. And, as much as I was coming to love the boy, I hadn’t envisaged Bruce being present. I dressed in a simple black shift and heels, deciding to splurge on a taxi to take me to the manor. Perhaps if I was lucky, Alfred would drive me home and if I was luckier still maybe he’d put his hands on me again.

I tapped on the front door of the manor a two minutes before six o’clock, knowing that punctuality was one of Alfred’s quirks. He opened the door as if he had been waiting for me, an apron tied around his waist and a pristine white tea-towel slung over his shoulder. He looked ridiculously good. It took me a moment to remember how to speak, but he was already ushering me inside before a word escaped my lips.

“Just on time, Vic. We’re in the dining room. Here, let me take your coat.”

While my tongue was tied, Alfred appeared to have contracted verbal diarrhoea. A small smile tugged at my lips; pleased to know that he was just a nervous as me.

He helped me out of my trenchcoat, his eyes following the curves of my body before he realised that he was doing it. The slight flush the rose in his cheeks was both endearing and sexy as hell.

“Please go and take a seat.” He invited, but I remained standing in the entranceway.

“Alfred,” His nerves had made me calm.

“Yes, love.” His coat was still hanging over his arm when I rose up on my toes and place a kiss to his smooth, clean-shaven cheek.

“Relax,” I told him. “We’re going to have a lovely evening.”

Enjoying the slightly dazed look in his eyes, I went through the dining room to greet Master Bruce.

*

* * *

Dinner was wonderful, as I had come to expect from Alfred. Although I did a lot of the cooking and meal preparations when I worked at the manor during the week, Alfred was a force to be reckoned with in the kitchen. I always found it humbling that he was happy to let me cook for him and for Bruce when he was clearly so talented at it.

After we had finished dessert of apple crumble and vanilla bean ice cream, Bruce asked to be excused from the table. Alfred looked a little relieved to let his charge slip away from us and I didn’t miss the smiles that passed between the two males.

“Can I offer you another glass of wine?” Alfred reached for the bottle that was chilling in the ice bucket on the table.

Truth be told, I was a little light-headed already although this had very little to do with the first glass of wine I had drank during the meal. Having Bruce as a chaperone had meant that the meal passed in a casual and friendly manner, but now that the boy was gone this felt very much like a date.

I accepted the refill, twining my fingers around the stem of the glass and watching as a bead of condensation dripping down the side. I looked up to find Alfred watching me intently.

“Something’s up with ya,” He said softly and thoughtfully. “You’ve got something on your mind.”

“Very astute, Alfred.” I replied, toasting him with my wineglass.

“Are you going to tell me about it or what?” To an outsider he would have sounded pissed off, but I already knew from experience that the angrier he was, the more worried he was.

I sighed. “It’s nothing, I just have a lot on my mind.”

He looked a little hurt, but I wasn’t ready to share all of my problems with him yet. I already had some idea what his response would be if I told him I was considering going to work for Carmine Falcone and I was quite worried what it would do to his blood pressure.

“Anything I can help with?” He finally asked when he realised I wasn’t about to divulge any more information.

“I’ve got a few suggestions,” I began, wondering if it was the wine that was making me brave or whether it was because I knew where this thing between us would inevitably lead.

He choked a little on his wine, but his eyes had darkened again. I wasn’t sure how he would feel about having sex in the manor while Bruce was up in his room. We hadn’t really talked about previous partners, so I had no idea whether he had had relationships while working for Mr and Mrs Wayne and their views about him bringing lovers home with him.  However, he must have known when he had invited me here for dinner tonight that there was certainly a possibility of us sleeping together.

“Let me go and check on Master Bruce,” He said, setting down his glass and quickly getting up from the table.

* * *

While he was gone, I walked to small powder room across the hall. I closed the toilet lid and sat down for a moment, just taking deep breaths. Whatever happened tonight would change my relationship with Alfred, and by extension Bruce, forever. It would change our working relationship as well as our personal one. I was shaking a little as I washed my hands and dried them on the thick, fluffy white hand towel that I had put into the bathroom on Friday morning when I had put the previous one in the laundry. Suddenly it hit me, what was I thinking? I was the maid; the hired help and the lowest ranking member of staff. Yes, Alfred was staff too but he was family and he was effectively Bruce’s father since his parents’ murder. I was stepping way over the line to think I could have some sort of romantic relationship with Alfred; that I could in some way be a part of Bruce’s life.

I stepped out of the bathroom in the hallway, nearly colliding with Alfred who had just come back downstairs. He smiled when he saw me, but it rapidly faded when he saw the look on my face.

“I’ve had a lovely evening,” I began, barely able to believe that my voice could sound to steady and clear. “The food was wonderful, but I really should say goodnight now. I will see you in the morning.” Summoning every ounce of self-control that I possessed, I rose up to kiss his cheek again and pretended not to see the mix of hurt and confusion in his eyes.

“I’ll, um…I’ll get your coat, miss.”

I felt the spell break just as my heart did the same, but it was how it had to be, at least for now. I knew what I needed to do if I had any hope of having the kind of relationship with Alfred that I wanted and that we both deserved.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I walked home alone again, through the streets of Gotham. I was feeling a little foolish and more than a little reckless, so the walk alone didn’t faze me. I was too lost in my own thoughts, swallowing a lump in my throat every time I thought about the call I would have to make when I returned to my apartment. In truth, it made me feel sick to my stomach but it distracted me from remembering the look on Alfred’s face when I had made my exit from the Wayne manor. For a moment, the poker face mask had slipped and I had seen how deeply I had hurt him. We had finally been making progress; having dinner and talking together just like normal couples who were embarking on the early stages of a relationship. I had wanted to stay; I had wanted him to talk me into his bed but I couldn’t do. I was the maid, for Christ’s sake. How could I seduce Alfred while he was ward; his orphaned ward slept in the same house? Shame clenched at my guts when I considered what Alfred must think of me now.

As lost in my thoughts as I was, I barely realised I was almost home until I turned onto my street. A sleek black car was waiting outside my apartment building and my stomach roiled once more. It seemed that I had not needed to dread the phone call I was going to make; the man I had wanted to speak too was waiting outside my own home.  
The rear passenger side door of the car opened as I approached the apartment building and Carmine Falcone stepped out into the cool Sunday night air.   
“Good evening, Victoria.”  
“Good evening, Don Falcone.”  
I was surprised that my voice didn’t shake, because I could feel tremors throughout my entire body.   
“I was about to give you up as a lost cause.”  
“I’m sorry,” I didn’t know why I was apologising, he had not indicated that he knew where I lived, let alone that he would be popping by for a visit. “I was just having dinner with a friend.”   
Falcone dismissed this with a wave of his hand.   
“Have you had time to consider my offer?”  
“Yes, sir.” I swallowed hard, this was the turning point. Once I agreed to this, my life as it had been would change forever and I couldn’t tell whether it would be for the better or not. “Your offer is very kind; very kind indeed. I would be honoured to accept.”  
Falcone’s face broke out into one of its rare smiles. “That’s wonderful to hear. I’m so glad.”  
I wondered whether I had really had any choice in the matter. I knew that what Don Falcone wanted he usually found some way of obtaining.  
“Would you be so kind as to come to my home tomorrow evening and we’ll discuss the terms of your contract.”  
It was a request plain and simple.  
“Of course. Would seven o’clock suit you?”  
“Perfect, I’ll see you then Victoria.” He took my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “Good night.”  
“Good night.”  
I waited until he climbed back into the car and the sleek black vehicle had pulled onto the next block. I wanted to sink to my knees and cry but instead I entered the apartment building and the next phase of my personal and professional life.

Unable to settle to anything once the dinner things had been cleared away and the kitchen returned to its usual pristine state, Alfred went back upstairs to check on Bruce. He had no doubt that the boy was doing fine, but Alfred needed the company of another human. He hadn’t expected Victoria to stay the night but he had hoped for something very different than what had transpired between them. There was far more to her than met the eye, and every time he thought he had some kind of handle on who she was, he found a whole other side to her.  
“Alright if I come in, Master Bruce?”  
“Sure, Alfred. Is everything alright?”  
Alfred entered Bruce’s room and went to sit heavily on the end of the boy’s bed.  
“Yes, I think so.”  
“Where is Vicky?” Bruce asked, looking over at the clock on his nightstand. “Did she go home already?”  
“Yes, she did. I think she must prefer your company to mine.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but to Bruce’s young ears he just sounded weary.   
“You like her, don’t you Alfred?”  
Alfred scrubbed his face with his hands. “Yes, more than I probably should.”  
“I like her,” Bruce replied decisively. “Maybe you should tell her how you feel.”  
“When did you become an expert on women, Master Bruce?”   
“All the time I’ve spent with you, Alfred.” The boy fired back and both of them smiled at this. “Talk to her, tomorrow.”  
Alfred said goodnight to Bruce and went back to his own quarters, knowing that sleep would be more elusive than ever tonight.

My stomach was tied in knots the next morning when I arrived at the Wayne manor. In my gloved hand I was tightly clasping my resignation and dreading handing it to Alfred. I had already hurt him enough, but at least my resignation would mean he wouldn’t have to work with my any longer, let alone date me.  
“Good morning, miss.” Alfred greeted me in the entrance hall, polite and formal as when we had first met. You wouldn’t think we had kissed; that he had put his hands on my naked body, you would consider us strangers.   
“Good morning Alfred,” I stood still, not making any move to take my coat or gloves off as I would normally.  
“Are you alright?” He asked, and the concern in his eyes stabbed at my heart.   
“I, um…I need to give you something.” I held out the envelope like it was a white flag.  
“What is this?” He asked, taking the envelope from my hand without breaking eye contact with me.  
I swallowed thickly. “It’s my resignation Alfred, I’ve been offered another job. Of course I’ll work my two weeks’ notice and give you as much help as I can until you can find someone else.” I was aware that I was babbling but I couldn’t seem to stop the words coming out.  
“Is this because of us?” He asked so softly that if the house hadn’t been silent around us I might not have heard him.  
I shook my head. “No, I’ve got another job offer. A singing job. It’s what I’ve always wanted.” This was true, except for the part where I’d be working for a Don.”  
“Well, congratulations.”  
“Thank you.”  
I finally made a move to take off my outer garments, setting my purse down on the polished stone floor. As I moved to hang my coat up on the hat stand by the door, I felt him come up behind me and place his hands on my hips. I took me a moment to catch my breath before I turned to face him. His hands were still firmly resting on my sides and his gaze knocked the breath out of my lungs all over again.  
“Alfred…”  
“Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you’re not interested in an old fella like me. Tell me, and I won’t bother you again. I’ll let you go now, I won’t make you work out your notice and we’ll never cross paths again.”  
“Alfred,” My voice cracked.   
“Tell me.”  
“I can’t.”  
He pulled me to him, mashing my soft curves against his lithe frame. His mouth took mine in a kiss that bordered on ferocious. All of it fell away; all of my insecurities and all of my fear about what the future working for Falcone would bring. All I could think about was being in Alfred’s arms and getting lost in the feeling of his lips devouring mine. For now, the rest could wait.


End file.
